


Savior

by Lucy (thatsmysky), Thatsmysky (thatsmysky)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Bamf!girl, Female Character In Command, Female Protagonist, Gen, Not Beta Read, Strong Female Characters, Violence, female hero, not complete
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1332790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmysky/pseuds/Lucy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmysky/pseuds/Thatsmysky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your basic run of the mill normal person gets thrown into dangerous situations and fulfills every stereotype you can think of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Look Back

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a story I made up in class one day. Let me know what you think!

Tires screeched as a large black SUV came barreling around a corner, the gunner on the car’s roof moved with an odd rhythm as he fired at the small Mexican teen in the alleyway. The bullets missed him, but he stood still while the car stopped and a tall black man got out and walked towards the boy. 

“You have nowhere to run, boy.” He stated with calm certainty interlaced with contempt. 

“Then kill me. You can’t touch what little I have left and you’ve taken almost everyone I care about.” The boy retorted with a confidence unbefitting of his age. A look of mixed confusion, rage, and disbelief flashed across the tall black man’s face like waves over sand, each overtaking the other. 

“Almost?” The man repeated, “Who have we failed to capture?” 

The Mexican did not reply. A red light appeared on the man’s forehead distracting the Mexican enough for him to forget the question. He swore and moved back a few paces, just as the sniper fired, knocking the man off his feet and on to the ground. The men in the SUV yelled in astonishment and began firing in the general direction from which they thought the shot had originated. Before any of them could refine their aim, however, 5 black-clad men stood on the roofs around them, aimed their respective weapons, and the car and all its occupants exploded. The Mexican looked around frantically but the five men had disappeared. He turned around in a full circle until he saw a solitary black-clad figure rise on the roof directly behind where the black man had stood. They held up their sniper rifle, strapped it to their back, and walked to the edge of the roof. The gunman slid down a downspout and dusted off their black clothes.

“You’re welcome.” The gunman said as they walked past the Mexican, patting him on his head, and knelt beside the fallen body.

The Mexican teen was not pleased. His eyes widened and he began shouting; “What the hell do you think you’re doing here? I told you to leave, to get out of here, to forget me! How could you kill that man? Why the hell are you here in the first place?” He seemed prepared to continue in this manner for quite a while, so the gunman held up a finger to stop his tirade short.

“First of all; I didn’t kill him, he’s knocked out by the superball I shot at him. Secondly, I did leave. Then I came back. You were in danger so I got the boys together and followed you here. You’ve done some very stupid stuff by the way.” The gunman, who turned out to be a girl if you paid attention, finished examining her victim, put the superball she had indeed used as ammo back in a pouch on her belt, and stood expectantly in front of the Mexican. All during her explanation black-dressed men had been creeping out of the shadows to stand behind her. When they stopped coming there were a good 20 men standing with her staring at the Mexican.

The boy was not swayed however. “Look,” he said “I appreciate the help, I do! But you know why I can’t have you here. I have to save my family and I don’t want you guys to get hurt.”

“You don’t have a choice.” The girl replied. “We’re here and we’re helping. You can’t get rid of us. I can protect myself; you have more important issues to worry about.”

Before the boy could reply the girl motioned for her men to tie up the fallen black man and to follow her. The Mexican had no choice but to go along. They walked down the alley to where a dusty old school bus was parked. The men tossed their hostage into the bus first, then climbed onboard themselves until only the Mexican teen and the female snipe were left outside.

“Get in.” The girl motioned to the bus with her gun. It was only now that they were so close that she realized the Mexican was taller than her. The Mexican didn’t move to get on the bus; instead he stood there looking at the gunwoman in disbelief.

“Tri… Don’t make me do this.”

“Talk later. Now we move.” The girl pushed the boy onto the bus and started its old rusted engine with a kick and a smooth turn of the key. She skillfully maneuvered the behemoth through the gears until it rumbled down the alleyway and out onto the city streets.

The Mexican stumbled to the back of the bus and fell into a seat next to a large burly man in black jeans and a black dusty sweater. The boy looked at him and asked in halting tones why they were driving such a noticeable vehicle if they so clearly didn’t want to be noticed. The man looked down at the small teenage boy and said in a surprisingly baritone voice:  
“Boy, have you ever heard of a gang traveling in a school bus? I haven’t, because to me and most of the world school busses are transportation for the small, the weak, children. If you ever see one you can’t picture anything being bad about a school bus except if the children are in danger from hijacking or some other nonsense. I never wanted to travel in a school bus for that very reason until your friend got me to join her. Now there’s no other way I’d rather travel.”  
“But how did she get you to join? She’s just a small young girl, how could she convince all these people to help her? Why are you here?” The Mexican asked slightly more urgently than he’d intended.  
“Oh that is a story worth telling” he replied with a reminiscent gleam in his eye. “I was in New York making a drug deal when I realized I wasn’t cut out for this. Don’t get me wrong, I love the shooting and the thrill of going around undetected but the reason I was shooting and sneaking around didn’t make sense to me. Then she came. I don’t know how she found me, but suddenly my life was better with her. She got me out of that hell-hole and we recruited together. Then we followed you. I gotta say you made a big mistake letting that girl go.”  
“Thanks” mumbled the Mexican. He sat back and closed his eyes, thinking. Words and pictures swirled through his mind. “One big mistake letting her go…” “I came back” “Go! Just go! Save yourself, I’ll be fine. Forget me…” Images of the tall black man, the girl patting his head, a park from before flashed while people yelled and children cried. A single tear slid down his cheek.  
“I’m Robert by the way.” The man next to the Mexican interjected uncomfortably. “I’m sort of the 2nd in command after the Boss. That’s what we call your girl, the Boss. No real name for her, she won’t tell. So don’t use her name.”  
“She’s not my girl.” Was all the Mexican said in reply.


	2. Call Me Newt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mexican boy gets a name, and an inferiority complex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm writing more! Sorry I suck at updating, this is kinda hard to continue. The mexican boy is based off a guy I was dating at the time I wrote the first chapter. He has since cheated on me and had a kid with another chick so dont be surprised if his story arc gets a little painful.

The streets were mostly deserted. People in the city knew better than to go outside of their homes in daylight without an official pass from an enforcer. Lately the passes had been given out more sparingly, due to "increased street violence" but most people knew that was a cover. The enforcers didn't want people outside their homes without an escort because outside they could talk, they could look around, and they would maybe even remember what the town looked like before.

This wasn't a large city; it wasn't on every map, it wasn't known for it's great sports teams or particularly unique cuisine. It wasn't small either; there were plenty of shops, 2 malls, and 4 high schools. It was a decent sized town. It was a town where you could trust your neighbor to watch your dog for the weekend. It was a town where political protests were a legitimate excuse to miss class. It was a town where the enforcers had come in and destroyed their way of life. The saddest part was that the town had asked for it.

This city was not known for it's law enforcement. Speed limits were obeyed for personal safety, not for fear of a ticket. Plenty of kids dealt drugs in the hallways of their schools and on the corners near their houses. And plenty of these kids were shot and killed over these deals. Eventually the citizens of the town who were not getting shot at or buying drugs appealed their mayor for a way to stop this violence. His solution was the enforcers. Men and women, originally volunteers, who would walk the streets at night armed to the teeth with weapons to "stop the terribly violent creatures who roamed the streets". As time passed, the violence of the drug dealers lessened as the violence of the enforcers increased. Many of the volunteers tried stop, tried to leave, but it was no use. People tried to fight back, so the enforcers took a volunteer from every household to ensure cooperation. No one technically knew what enforcers did for training, but it was common knowledge that it was terrible enough to stop the deserters from trying to leave again. Families that spoke out against these measures 'donated' more children to the ranks they despised. This continued until the enforcers had control over the city and the entire population therein. No one dared fight back anymore.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. People fought back, but they did so silently and at great personal risk. This city wasn't the only city where such things had happened; people had run to nearby towns only to find the exact same situations everywhere they went.  To fight back meant the recruitment of your loved ones and your imminent death.  That didn't stop everyone though, as the school bus trudging through the dusty streets proved.  Schools were still in session, people still went to work everyday, so a school bus wasn't entirely out of place.  Still, the Mexican boy was surprised when they pulled into the parking lot of a rundown elementary school with children playing on the playground.  It almost looked normal.  

It looked normal, that is, until the bus pulled up to what looked like an old cold war bunker behind the school.  The Boss cut the engine and opened the door, motioning for the rest of the men to follow her.  Silently they filed out of the bus and to the door of the bunker, where the Boss was opening a series of locks, some old fashioned and which looked too high tech to be out in the open.  Once she had the doors open, they swiftly moved through the door and into darkness as the Boss closed the door behind the Mexican, who had been bringing up the rear.  Not a word was spoken, and the black-clad men scattered in the darkness until the Mexican boy was left along with the Boss, wondering if speaking would get him killed. 

Before he could will himself to make the risk and ask what the hell was going on, the Mexican boy was blinded by the lights in the bunker suddenly coming to life in full force.  Swearing as quietly as he could, he threw his hands to his face and screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the sudden onslaught of painfully bright light.  Next to him, the Boss was laughing and soon the laughter of all the men around him was echoing off the walls of what the Mexican boy assumed bust be a much larger bunker than it had appeared to be. 

Finally, gasping, the Boss patted him on the back and pushed some sunglasses into his hands.  As the Mexican put them on, he blinked blearily around at the men surrounding him, looking expectantly at the Boss.  "I think we have a new name for you", she said, putting her hand on his shoulder and presenting him to the crowd.  "Let me introduce our newest friend; Newt!"


End file.
